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She couldn’t shake the sense that beginning torief Her love Her loss There was soht of it that she had to stop at the foot of the steps, put her hand on the banister, and catch her breath The knock startled her, kicked her heart rate up a notch Theresa turned and stared at the door, the thought crossing her ined the sound It was 4:50 am What could anyone possibly want-- Another knock Harder than the first She crossed the foyer in bare feet and stood on her tiptoes to see through the peephole Under the illu on her stoop under an umbrella He was short Completely bald Face an expressionless shadow under the dripping canopy He wore a black suit that ent with news of Ethan? What other reason could there possibly be for someone to knock on her front door at this hour? But the tie was all wrong Striped blue and yellow--too h the peephole, she watched the man’s hand reach out and knock onceyou I saw you at the kitchen sink just a few h the door "I need to speak with you" "About what?" "Your husband" She shut her eyes, opened theain The man was still there, and she ide awake now "What about him?" she asked "It would be simpler if we could just sit down and talk face-to-face" "It’s the ht and I have no idea who you are There’s no way I’ you in my house" "You ant to hear what I have to say" "Tell h the door" "I can’t do that" "Then co I’ll speak with you then" "If I leave, Mrs Burke, you will never see edy for you and for Ben I swear to youI intend you no harm" "Get off my property or I’ll call the police" The man reached into his coat and took out a Polaroid As he held it up to the peephole, Theresa felt so on a steel operating table, naked under clinical blue light The left side of his face looked deeply bruised, and she couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead Before she knehat she was doing, her hand was reaching for the chain and turning back the dead bolt Theresa pulled the door open as the ainst the brick Behind him, a cold steady rain laid down an undercurrent of white noise on the sleeping city A dark-colored Mercedes Sprinter was parked a few houses down Not a fixture on her street She wondered if the van was his "David Pilcher," thehis hand "What have you done to hi it "Is he dead?" "May I come in?"She moved back as Pilcher stepped over the threshold, his black wingtips glistening with beads of rainwater"I can take these off," he said, gesturing to his shoes "Don’t worry about it" She led hi room and they sat down across from one another, Theresa on the couch, Pilcher on a wooden, straight-backed chair she’d dragged over froht?" he asked "A celebration of my husband’s life" "Sounds lovely" She suddenly felt very tired, the lightbulb over her head almost too much for her retinas to bear "Why do you have a picture of my husband, Mr Pilcher?" "That doesn’t matter" "It does to me" "What if I were to tell you that your husband is alive?" For ten seconds, Theresa didn’t breathe There was the noise of the dishwasher, of rain falling on the roof, of her throbbing heart, and nothing else "Who are you?" she asked "It doesn’t matter" "Then how can I trust--" He held up a hand, his black eyes crinkling "Better to listen right now" "Are you with the governain, who I am isn’t important It’s what I have to offer you" "Ethan is alive?" "Yes" Her throat tightened, but she held herself together "Where is he?" She could only whisper Pilcher shook his head "I could sit here and tell you everything, but you wouldn’t believe me" "How do you know?" "Experience" "You won’t tell et up, walk out that door, and you’ll never see ain" "Is he hurt?" She could feel a co to loosen behind her sternum "He’s fine" "Do you wantto do withon the edge of the chair and staring at her through those piercing black eyes whose intensity suggested ato you and your son a one-time offer" Pilcher reached into the inner pocket of his coat, carefully re a clear liquid, and set theed with tiny corks "What’s that?" Theresa asked "A reunion" "A reunion?" "With your husband" "This is a joke--" "No, it’s not" "Who are you?" "My na to me And you expect me to--what?--drink that down, just see what happens?" "You’re welcome to refuse, Theresa"